


and who shall wear the starry crown

by tragicallynerdy



Series: oh sinners [2]
Category: UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Body Worship, Edging, Lingerie, M/M, Makeup, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Smut, Tenderness, corsets, soft men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicallynerdy/pseuds/tragicallynerdy
Summary: “Clayton? Would you… would you lace me up?”Clayton looks up, and he swears his heart stops beating.“Oh, darlin’,” Clayton breathes reverently. “Aren’t you a sight.”Matthew blushes furiously, biting his pretty painted lip. He’s stunning, a sight to behold in the pale pink corset and delicate lace panties. Tall and broad, the dainty clothing doing little to hide the heavy shift of muscles under his skin. He even put on the garters, a thin line of silk and lace wrapped around each thigh.Lord.
Relationships: Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Series: oh sinners [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653118
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	and who shall wear the starry crown

**Author's Note:**

> This is soft smut, y'all. It's a bit different than the other two in this series; softer, more tender, with some actual scene setting this time! It's also quite a bit shorter than the other two, but I'll make up for it in the final installment, whenever that happens. 
> 
> No warnings that I can think of. The praise kink and body worship tags are especially relevant in this fic. Honestly, I just couldn't get the picture of Matthew in a corset out of my head. 
> 
> Shoutout to everyone over at the UnDeadwood discord server for screaming at me as I wrote this one! Y'all are the best.

It starts when he finds Matthew fingering a scrap of silk and lace in the hardware store. Matthew’s fingers are big, coarse from their work on the church. He’s touching hesitantly, careful with the delicate fabric. Clayton knows the feeling, knows the catch of calloused fingers along spun silk, the awareness of your own roughness contrasting something so beautiful, something so soft.

“Ain’t that pretty,” he says quietly when he sidles closer. Matthew jerks his hand away like he’s been burned, a blush rising fast and furious on his cheek bones. Clayton manages to contain a frown.

Matthew clears his throat. “Yes. It’s ah – I’m sure Miriam would love it.”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with liking pretty things,” Clayton says carefully, cautiously. This is new territory, and he doesn’t want to fuck this up. Matthew nods jerkily, and Clayton steps closer, presses a hand gently on his lower back. Matthew breathes, settles, smiles down at him.

“It’s nothing,” Matthew says, and Clayton can hear the lie as it trips across his lips. He lets it slide; he understands it, the vulnerability that comes with the truth. Matthew must see something in his eyes, because his flush grows. He looks down at the silk again. “Just – thought it looked soft.”

Clayton nods. He glances around the store, and when he sees that no one is looking he pushes up on his toes, brushes a kiss to Matthew’s lips. “Alright, love.”

He lets Matthew lead him out of the store. Two days later, while Matthew’s preaching his sermon, he comes back, and picks up the pretty pink silk, and the delicate lace, and some gleaming pearl buttons. Joanie knows a seamstress, one who will keep quiet; he hopes he’s not making a mistake.

* * *

“Matthew? I have a gift for you.”

Matthew looks up at him in surprise. A pleased smile breaks out on his face as Clayton extends the box, tied up with ribbon.

“A gift? Clay, you shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to. It’s – you’ll see.”

Matthew takes it, then catches Clayton’s hand, squeezes it once. He tugs Clayton down so he can kiss him. “Thank you, love.”

Clayton nods, settles on the other end of the sofa so he can watch as Matthew unties the ribbon, lifts the top off the box. He raises an eyebrow at the crepe paper, glancing at Clayton before unwrapping it with careful hands. Then he stills.

A soft noise escapes Matthew’s mouth as he looks down at the silk and lace lying under his hands.

“You don’t have to,” Clayton says softly. “But I thought… thought maybe you’d like it.”

Matthew traces it with careful fingers, running over the pearl buttons, the boning, the lace at the edges. All pink and white, more delicate than anything they own combined.

They’re not delicate men. That’s part of what makes this so enticing.

Matthew looks at him. “You bought this? For me?”

“I had it made. It should fit.” Clayton reaches out, brushes his knuckles along Matthew’s cheek. “I thought it would look beautiful on you.”

Matthew swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. When he speaks his voice is thick. “Alright.”

Clayton smiles, lets his touch linger. Matthew leans into it subtly, just the hint of added pressure. “Would you like me to paint your face? I have cosmetics.”

“You know how?”

Clayton nods. Matthew bites his lip, contemplating.

“Alright,” he breathes again.

“Come on then,” Clayton says softly. “Go sit in the kitchen, I’ll put this in the bedroom.”

* * *

He’s got steady hands. It makes this easier, as does the practice he’s put in over the past several weeks, Miriam sitting patiently for him as he smeared makeup on her skin. He wonders if she and Joanie are talking about him, about this; it doesn’t really matter either way. He trusts them.

Matthew holds still for him, eyes closed, mouth open as he smears gold on his eyelids and dark red on his lips, a line of black kohl across his lash line. Clayton keeps his hands gentle and sure. He wants them, wants _this_ , to be tender. So that it makes Matthew feel good, makes him feel as beautiful as Clayton knows he is.

“You’ve got beautiful lashes,” Clayton tells him. He’s sitting on the table, Matthew sitting on the chair, pulled up between his spread knees. He’s sure there are better ways to do this, but this keeps them close, keeps Matthew where he wants him. 

Matthew flushes at the compliment. “You don’t have to say that.”

Clayton presses his palm against Matthew’s cheek, then returns to his task. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ but the truth, darlin’.”

Matthew’s hand curls around his calf. He waits until Clayton finishes, then looks up at him with those gorgeous eyes. “Thank you, love.”

Clayton leans down, presses a kiss to his painted lips. It’s worth messing up his work. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

He waits in the sitting room while Matthew changes. He’s can be a patient man, when he needs to be, and this is something that’s worth waiting for.

The door creaks open.

“Clayton? Would you… would you lace me up?”

Clayton looks up, and he swears his heart stops beating.

“Oh, darlin’,” Clayton breathes reverently. “Aren’t you a sight.”

Matthew blushes furiously, biting his pretty painted lip. He’s stunning, a sight to behold in the pale pink corset and delicate lace panties. Tall and broad, the dainty clothing doing little to hide the heavy shift of muscles under his skin. He even put on the garters, a thin line of silk and lace wrapped around each thigh.

_Lord._

Clayton stands, crosses over to him. He pulls Matthew down and licks into his mouth, settles a hand on the silk at his hip. When he pulls away they’re both breathless, and as he glances down he can see that Matthew is already hard, his cock straining against the panties.

“Yeah, beautiful. I can do that. Turn around?”

Matthew does as he’s told, bowing his head as Clayton laces him up tighter. He watches as Matthew settles under his hands, relaxing with each pull of the laces. He wants this to be good, wants Matthew to _feel_ good.

He presses his lips to Matthew’s spine, kissing down until his lips brush against the edge of the corset, the fringe of lace along the top. Matthew’s skin twitches under his touch, and Clayton hears him gasp, soft and bitten-off, like he’s trying to hide. And that won’t do, that won’t do at all.

So he trails his fingertips up Matthew’s hip, the other trailing down the laces of the corset. He stands on his tip-toes, kisses the side of Matthew’s neck, just under his ear. Matthew shudders.

“Would you let me make you feel good, love?” he keeps his voice soft, delicate in this delicate moment. Matthew jerks his head in a nod. Clayton rewards him with another kiss to his neck, lips against skin. “Why don’t you get on the bed, lay yourself out?”

Matthew nods again, then moves forward, away from his touch. As he gets on the bed Clayton realizes that Matthew is trembling, already overwhelmed. But he spreads himself out on their sheets dutifully, pillow beneath his head, a vision in the lamplight spilling across the room. Then he turns to look at Clayton, pupils blown wide, eyes gorgeous and bright under the smear of gold across his eyelids and the dark sweep of his lashes.

Clayton can’t help but lean down, brush their lips together lightly. Matthew’s mouth parts, and it’s easy to taste, to let their tongues move together. To suck Matthew’s lower lip into his own mouth, to make this soft and slow.

Matthew moans, and he takes that as his cue to kiss his way down his throat, hands moving across his skin. He palms the silk on Matthew’s waist, feels the play of muscle beneath it. Matthew arches into his touch, hands holding onto Clayton’s elbow, his hair.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are.” Clayton glances up at Matthew, but he already looks beyond words, flayed by simple touch of Clayton’s hands on his body and the whisper of silk on his skin. “Do you?”

A broken noise comes out of Matthew, one that makes him smile, makes him sure that this was a good idea.

“That’s alright,” he says, as he leans down to swirl his tongue around Matthew’s nipple, just visible over the edge of the lace. “I’m happy to keep tellin’ you.”

He works his way down Matthew’s body, pressing soft kisses to his skin, to the silk, to the coarse hair dusting Matthew’s thighs. Finally he moves, shifting until he can kneel at the foot of the bed and place gentle hands on Matthew’s knees. They part for him easily, spreading so he can settle between them, Matthew’s thighs bracketing his shoulders. Matthew’s cock is inches before him, wrapped in the panties he’s wearing so beautifully. Clayton breathes in the musk of him, the scent of his arousal, feels his own belly grow warm in response. He wouldn’t trade this spot for anything in the world. 

"You're so gorgeous, darling," Clayton says, ghosting his fingertips across the scrap of lace covering Matthew's cock. It twitches under his touch, hard and flushed and so goddamn beautiful. "Such a pretty cock, and already hard for me." He taps Matthew's inner thigh, drawing a whimper from his mouth at the touch. "Why don't you put your hands to good use, spread them beautiful thighs for me?"

Matthew places shaking hands on his thighs, pulling them up and apart, baring himself for Clayton. Clayton hums to let Matthew know his appreciation, his approval, his own goddamn delight in the beauty that is Matthew. Then he leans in, presses a feather-light kiss to the base of Matthew’s cock through the fabric. Matthew gasps, cheeks flushing red to match his cock. Clayton wonders how long it will take the blush to spread, to stain the rest of his skin. 

"Good boy," Clayton murmurs, watching as the blush creep down his neck. _Not long then, not long at all._ "Doing so well for me."

Matthew looks like a treasure, all done up in the scraps of silk and lace. They do nothing to cover him, instead accentuating the broadness of his chest, the thickness of his thighs, the solid muscle and dark hair that looks so pretty against the pale pink of the silk and the white of the lace.

"Lord, you're a gift," Clayton murmurs, then traces the line of Matthew's cock with his tongue through the flimsy fabric. Matthew's hips twitch, hands clutching his thighs tighter, nails digging in beside the garters stretched across his heavy thighs. "And being so good, sweetheart, holding yourself open for me."

Matthew groans, and Clayton presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, tastes the salt of pre-come on his tongue.

"Please," Matthew gasps. The muscles of his stomach jump as Clayton licks at the junction of his thigh, then runs the pads of his fingers along his calf, resting one hand on Matthew's ankle. "Please, Clay -"

"All in good time, Matthew," Clayton murmurs. He glances up at Matthew, taking in the flushed cheeks and mussed hair, the smear of lipstick across his mouth, open and wanton. "My beautiful boy, you can be patient."  
  
Matthew whimpers out a strangled yes, lets his legs fall open even further as Clayton drags his nails up his calf, then his thigh, bypassing Matthew's hand and, marveling at the solid muscle he finds there. He trails his fingers along the garter, fingering the soft silk, stretched so obscenely around the breadth of Matthew’s thigh. All that power, all that strength, framed by something so beautiful, something so fragile. The contrast is stunning.

He pillows his head on Matthew's other thigh and watches light lines of pink form on his skin in the wake of his nails, lets his breath collect hot and wet on Matthew's cock.

"Precious," Clayton says, smiling at the twitch of Matthew's cock, at the sound of his breath catching. He rests his hand at the crease where Matthew's thigh meets his hip, watches the shiver of his skin. "That's what you are. My precious boy, my beautiful treasure."

Matthew keens, and Clayton knows that he's close. His cock is hard and flushed, leaking pre-come onto his belly from where it pokes out of the top of the pretty white lace, and Clayton can't help the groan he lets out in response. He lifts his head back up, presses a kiss to Matthew's thigh, then another, sucking bruises into Matthew's skin. He runs a hand up Matthew's torso, smooths across the silk corset framing his waist, circles the pads of his fingers around one of Matthew's nipples.

"You deserve this, you know?"

He doesn't wait for Matthew's response, just drags the panties down a little further, sucks the tip of Matthew's cock into his mouth. He runs his tongue along the slit and is rewarded with a keen, Matthew’s whole body jerking under his hold. Clayton moans too, holding Matthew in his mouth for a long moment before pulling off with a soft pop.

"You deserve to be worshiped."

He keeps at it, keeps running his lips along Matthew's skin, teasing him with his hands and tongue, singing the praises that always work Matthew higher and higher, listening as Matthew's moans turn into sobs. He's never been with a partner that he wanted to worship like this, never before believed the things he was saying so completely. Matthew is wonderful. Matthew is good, and precious, and so terribly beautiful. And it is his duty and his delight to prove it to him again, and again, and again.

Especially when he's like this, eyelids dusted with gold, dark red mouth falling open as he lets out the prettiest noises. The corset compliments the lace of his panties and the garters beautifully, all dusty rose silk and soft white trim. Clayton hums in appreciation as he levers himself over Matthew, gazing down at him, hair spread across the pillow.

"Your hair's getting longer," he murmurs. "It's beautiful."

He runs his fingers along one of Matthew's damp cheekbones, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, smearing lipstick on his skin. Matthew turns into him eagerly, whimpering as Clayton rewards him with a proper kiss, tongues sliding together. Matthew's hips shift against his, thighs trembling in the position he's still holding, and Clayton smiles into the kiss.

"Clay," Matthew gasps when he pulls away. "Clay, I'm so close."

"I know you are. You've been close for a while, now." Clayton gives in, kisses his way back down Matthew's neck, sucks at the hollow of his throat and licks the sweat from his skin, pauses to lavish his nipples with his tongue, to smudge his skin with the lipstick he stole. “Alright, precious thing. You’ve been so good.”

He eases his way between Matthew’s legs, splays a hand across his hip bone and tugs at the delicate lace, pulling it taught across Matthew’s cock. Matthew lets out a wounded noise and tosses his head to the side, panting against the pillow. He’s sweat-streaked and wanton, and Clayton _adores_ him like this, strung tight with need. Clayton hooks an arm under one of Matthew’s shaking thighs, and calls him softly by name.

“Matthew.”

He waits until Matthew peers down at him, until he knows he has his attention. Then he presses a kiss to his thigh, pulls at the ruined lace, and takes his cock in hand.

“You can touch, love.”

Matthew’s hand buries itself in his hair, hand trembling and tender despite how strung out he is. The press of his palm is a heavy thing, curling around Clayton’s skull and reminding him of the strength Matthew is containing for him.

“Look at you, my good boy,” Clayton says, leaning his head into Matthew’s hand. He watches a bead of pre-come pearl at the tip of Matthew’s cock, tongue darting out to lick it as it winds its way downwards. Matthew’s hips jerk, a wounded noise spilling from his lips. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Matthew. You’ve done so well, holding on for me.” He grips Matthew’s cock tighter and raises it to his lips, glancing up into his eyes. “Come for me, beautiful.”

He slides Matthew into his mouth, swallows him down and moans at the taste of him, the bump of Matthew’s cock against the back of his throat. And Matthew, _beautiful_ Matthew, arches under his touch, crying out his orgasm as Clayton moans around his cock, his touch on Clayton’s hair anchoring them both.

Clayton sucks until Matthew is sobbing, then he lets his cock slide from his lips, swallows the rest of Matthew’s spend as Matthew collapses back to the bed. There’s a moment, a lull where Clayton presses his cheek to Matthew’s thigh, kisses his damp skin, and lets himself dwell in Matthew’s pleasure. Then the hand in his hair tightens, tugs until Clayton climbs his way back up Matthew’s body and meets his mouth in a kiss. It’s slick and soft and only a little bit desperate, Matthew still shuddering through the after-shocks of his orgasm. Matthew reaches for Clayton’s smalls, but Clayton catches his hand instead, smears a kiss to his palm. He rolls onto his back, tugs Matthew until he’s splayed across Clayton’s chest, leg curled over his. He's a mess of come and spit and sweat, and Clayton knows he is in love.

“Not tonight, love,” he murmurs against Matthew’s temple. He presses a kiss to Matthew’s sweat-damp hair, smiles at the curls plastered to his forehead. Matthew buries his face in Clayton’s neck, curls in closer, hooks an arm around his waist.

“Tomorrow,” Matthew mutters against his skin.

Clayton hums, holds Matthew closer. “Alright, love. Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope y'all enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


End file.
